


Natural Together

by Mercale



Series: Becoming a Turk [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Background - Freeform, First Meetings, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercale/pseuds/Mercale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are natural together as partners, but ever wonder what got them together in the first place? Or how Reno got those scars of his?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Together

It wasn't one of the best bars in the resort town, but it always did the trick for him anyway. Didn't matter if there was a chance for a brawl or not, not as long as he got his drinks, and with minimal watering.

He knew from experience that he could easily used his name to get high class bars to serve him on a tab, but that didn't help much either. Going that route often got word of his habits back to his parents, so it was reserved for when he was escorting ladies of his parent's choosing. It was the anonymity of the cheap place that he preferred anyway.

Today was just another one of those nights, the kind when he gave the servants 'The Look' and slipped off into the gathering dark for a drink. Just another night where he would get mildly buzzed and head home rather contentedly. A night where nothing could go wrong and, just in case, he made sure to have an escape route. All-in-all things normal for the young heir to the largest resort hotel in all of Costa Del Sol.

It was a longish walk from the large villa to the small, lackluster bar called Bottoms Up. Long didn't matter though seeing as he'd made the trek a hundred times before without incident. Besides, it was good exercise outside of the martial arts he'd taken up as a pass time. Soon enough wealth passed into middle class into poverty the further he got from the center of town and the beach. Before he knew it the dingy red and white sign denoting the bar came into view.

Inside you could taste the smoke in the air and smell the deceptive camaraderie. The bare-headed youth had seen the place degrade into a brawl after everyone had been singing together in less than ten minutes. No peace lasted here, but the wars tended to be small and contained. Best thing was that after the fight the brawlers tended to buy each other drinks. The fights were never over anything big. The men here were more like an extended family fighting like siblings than anything. So it was far from unexpected that when heads turned to look at him, he received smiles and the occasional 'hey baldy'. Siblings indeed.

The youth, who went by a variety of names like 'baldy' and 'rude' while he was here, moved to the bar and gestured to the bartender. The man knew the usual of every single guy who had ever walked into this place, owing much to that photographic memory of his. 'Rude' often suggested he should go into some sort of espionage with a memory like that, but the old man would always laugh and just push another scotch into his hands, saying that he had better stuff to do than stick his head out for people who should keep their noses where they belonged. Of course he didn't know who 'Rude' was, so it was understandable. Rude knew just how important people like the tender could be in the vicious business world.

"The usual," Rude said, the scotch in his hand before the words were even all the way out of his mouth.

"How goes it baldy?" the tender asked.

"Like normal," he grunted, sipping at the potent liquid. No one talked much about their lives here, it was only about the drinking. "Nothing worth mentioning."

The older man nodded, "Just as well. Getting more than enough stories out of that other guy over there." There was a small gesture indicating a red-haired teen that Rude was only now noticing. That would explain the relative silence of the place. It was normally abuzz with many pointless conversations, drunken singing, and people shouting orders and bets across the bar. But, the second he laid his eyes on the red-head, Rude could understand.

The youth was full of nervous energy. One moment his voice was low and calm, the next he was out of his seat and halfway across the room, gesturing wildly to get a point across. Moments later he was standing on a stool shouting before leaping off and talking so low that everyone pulled in close to hear him. Great, just what the bar didn't need, some attention greedy twerp. Rude returned his attention to the scotch, not finding some kid's story about snowboarding up north worth his time.

But, the relative peace of his spot at the bar didn't last. What felt like moments later but was probably an hour later considering how many drinks he had gone through there was a presence at his side. Normally no one would dare sit directly beside him. It had become one of the unspoken rules around this place. No one bought another guy a drink without buying drinks for the whole bar. No one talked about real life beyond the normal exaggerated guy bragging stories. And no one, no one, sat beside Rude. Those were the rules, simple as that.

"What ya up to, yo?" the red head asked, a cheerful smile on his face.

Rude just glared hard at his drink and said nothing. Maybe if he was quiet the kid would go away. Sadly that failed miserably when the red head leaned close to stick his head in Rude's face. The wealthy youth leaned back in surprise. This kid was really over stepping his bounds.

"Want a drink? I can buy ya one," he offered. Rude merely stood, put some gil on the bar for his own drinks and headed for the door.

Of course he didn't make it far. He was about a block away before he saw it again, a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. That damn twerp was following him. Couldn't he have had a night of peace? Was that just too much to ask.

"Don't look now, but you're being followed," the red-head said as he came up beside the bald male. Rude paused to glare at the youth, about to roll his eyes and point out if the red-head stopped following him then there would be no problem. But, without moving, no sound of his own footfalls to distract him, Rude quickly got the point. He heard whispered voices, booted steps on the ground and knew the red-head was right.

"And what do you think I should do about that?" he hissed between clenched teeth.

"Ready to trust me for a moment big man?"

Rude actually rolled his eyes this time, but there wasn't time for him to say anything more before the pair was surrounded by a motley looking crew.

"Your gil or your life," one of the men, this one holding a metal pipe, said, a vicious smile on his face.

"Well, if he hands over his gil how is he going to treat me to dinner?" the red-head asked, a grin on his face.

Before Rude could react to the statement himself, his shock ruling him for a moment, the red-head burst into a frenzy of motion just like he had at the bar. Two men were on the ground clutching at injuries before Rude even realized what was going on. Damned if he was going to let some kid show him up though. Quickly Rude put his martial arts training to good use. In moments he had taken one man down with a powerful punch and delivering a roundhouse kick to the gut of someone trying to sneak up behind the energetic youth.

What Rude wouldn't notice until later was how perfectly they moved together. One would duck a blow from an attacker while the other acted instinctively to lash out at said attacker in defense of their ally. Kicks were thrown that narrowly missed each other to hit home in a violent target, and in the end the pair stood back to back, one grinning at their triumph, the other trying to catch his breath. Unlike the red-head, Rude had never been forced to use his fighting skills in a real dangerous situation.

"You okay there big man?" the lean red-head asked, turning to grin at Rude in a charming manner.

"You're… hurt," Rude said in shock as he noticed twin cuts on the cheekbones of the youth. Blood from the wounds ran down the injured male's face like tears, and oddly matched the more vivid red of his hair quite well.

"Yeah. Come guy had a knife and was just a bit faster than me. Don't worry about it though."

The larger man could not believe that this youth had risked his own safety for a total stranger. It made no sense, not even here in Costa Del Sol. "You should go to the hospital."

"Naw, wouldn't be worth it yo. Well… see you round big guy. And don't get yourself into trouble!"

Rude could do little more than watch as the red haired youth disappeared back towards the bar. Kid had saved him, sorta, and he didn't even know his name. But, looking at his watch, Rude saw he had no time to ponder that. He had to get home soon or his parents might figure out that something was up. Still, even as he started the walk home, Rude had to wonder if he'd ever see the red-head again. It was, after all, a small planet.


End file.
